Something Next to Normal
by impossibleorimprobable
Summary: They're damaged. Irreparably damaged. But who's to say that the jagged shards of his soul can't fit into hers? Who's to say that, in a desolate world falling apart at the seams, they can't find perfection in each other? [T for language. FaxKamille. There isn't an official ship name, is there? Can I please coin the term Famille? Please?]
**A/N: There is an entirety of 5 fics under this pairing, and now it's 6! I would like to clarify that I don't actually watch Gundam and this is a present for TearsofTime0086, so characterization may be off, etc. Sorry in advance haha :P In case it isn't clear, this is post Kamille-becomes-a-vegetable and just immediately post Kamille-recovers-the-use-of-his-body-again. Inspired by "Hey #3" from the musical Next to Normal. It's really good and y'all should go listen to it.**

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He nearly strangled himself knotting the bow on his tie. Kamille hadn't worn something like this in years. Each formal occasion he had the misfortune of being forced to attend had been braved with a crisply pressed military uniform, medals and honors hanging, glittering, over his chest, a sobering weight pressing down the fluttering of his heart. But today was supposed to be different. Today, he no longer carried the fate of the universe on his shoulders.

His fingers (not quite so clever as they were before, since his brush with death had resulted in a comatose state) shook more than he cared to admit as he buttoned his jacket, casting a haphazard glance at the mirror.

For the first time in weeks, his hair was not a storm around his face, and the newly ironed lines of the black tuxedo he'd borrowed made for a stark contrast against hospital gowns. The bandages had come off, and the only trace left behind was the occasional discolored patch of skin that indicated a fading bruise or a scar that will fade into a white, puckered line.

 _Perfect._

The same tired blue eyes set in dark circles stared back at him.

Inside the storm still raged.

But _she_ was waiting, and he'd kept her waiting for far too long.

Kamille inhaled. The door swung shut behind him.

She stood in a pale blue dress, shimmering like stardust, back turned to him at the bottom of the stairs.

The breath had been stolen from his lungs and it almost hurt. "Hey."

Fa turned, smile already blossoming on her face. "Hey."

"God, you look..." He bit his lip, mouth dry. "... _Beautiful."_

"You came," Her fingers slipped between his, warm skin brushing against his cold palms, and he could feel the relieved delight radiating from her voice.

"Well." He cleared his throat and allowed himself to be tugged down the stairs. "I said I would."

"I thought…" The smile on her face dimmed a little. "With everything having gone the way it did...the war...Four Murasame...I thought we might have been...I thought you would have…" She looked away. "I thought we were through-"

"Hey," Kamille interrupted, reaching out with uncharacteristic tenderness to kiss her temple, a shadow of a grin on his face. "Not today."

He'd smirk when she blushed. And then she'd insult him or hit him, and he'd duck and call her names.

It would be the perfect illusion of normalcy.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Instead, Fa peered up at him through her lashes.

He swallowed, trying to maintain the grin. "Well, I might be someday."

She bit her lip at the self-deprecating joke. "I meant….tonight."

Confronted with the look in her eyes and her teeth worrying at her bottom lip, he couldn't keep lying.

Not about the nightmares. Not about the screaming in his head. Not about how he fell to pieces every morning and didn't have the energy to pick himself back up and sew the pieces together.

Kamille sighed. "Maybe I'm not..."

He regretted the words as soon as he said them.

Her hands slipped away from his to cup the sides of his face. "...Can you leave it behind?"

"I just...it constantly circles around and around in my head and I can't…Fa, I'm too fucked up to..." God it was stupid and she didn't deserve this and-"I'm sorry. I just wanted-never mind, you shouldn't have to deal with this-" he started away from her.

"Stay."

He stood still, not quite brave enough to peer at her.

Silence.

"Fa," he managed to choke, gripping on to her wrists. "Am I crazy? I know you don't... We shouldn't...I can't do this to you. You don't deserve this and-" Kamille swallowed, hard. "I think...I'm going to end up crazy…"

"I'm here for you." She declared fiercely.

He jerked away from her, unsure if the noise that had been ripped from the back of his throat was a laugh or a desperate cry for help. "You say that right now." Fa looked ready to protest but he plunged on, gesturing, "But then give it a couple of years-a decade, two. We could grow old together-I could end up being your husband-sitting, staring at nothing, throwing shit at walls, freaking out at the sound of machinery, running senseless through the street, bleeding out in the bath-"

" _Perfect_ ," she interrupted breathlessly.

His own breath caught in his throat. "What did you say?"

"Perfect for you," She said. Tears shone in her eyes as she leaned up toward him, winding her arms around his neck. "I'm perfect for you." A pause. He felt more than saw Fa smile, and somehow, warm cheek burning with tears pressed against his, Kamille almost thought he might have been embracing a star.

"Fa-"

"Shh. You could go crazy, or I could go crazy," he felt her breath, warm against his ear, "It's true. And, sometimes life is insane, but I _know_ I can do crazy."

He remained speechless as she pulled back, smiling, still smiling, like she would never stop-"Cause crazy is _perfect_ ," Fa leaned into press a kiss to his forehead, "-and fucked up is _perfect_ -" and then to the tip of his nose, "-so I will be perfect-" and then to the corner of his mouth, "-for you."

"... _Perfect_ ," Kamille murmured, tasting the word on his tongue. And then he tilted his head to the side and caught her lips with his own.

Someone cleared their throat.

They pulled apart. The air had been stolen from his lungs again, but instead of feeling like he was dying, he felt _alive._

The car had arrived, and the chauffeur stood at the door, turning his eyes away politely.

She took his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder, and they walked out into the cold night air to step into the car that would take them to their dance.

Not quite alone in the darkness, the heat of her pressed into his side, Kamille started.

"I can't promise that _this_ ," he gestured vaguely at the two of them and somehow they both knew he wasn't talking about the dance, "Will be normal…but..."

"I don't need normal…" She caught his hand and squeezed, "...but...you'll try, and I'll try, and we'll pick up the pieces together. Something...next to normal...might be nice..."

Even in the dark, she could tell he'd smiled.

They weren't close to okay. They might never be. But, she thought, privately, as he raised their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles, as long as he was beside her, it was going to be _perfect._


End file.
